Too Close For Comfort
by TykiMickey
Summary: To Loki, his defeat by the Avengers was humiliating enough. Then Natasha finds out he's claustrophobic.


**Too Close For Comfort**

Battered, bruised and sorely defeated, Loki was hurting in more ways than one. The damage inflicted by an unimpressed Hulk was nothing compared to the way everyone looked down on him now. Agent Barton's bow aimed straight at him, and Agent Romanoff holding his scepter. How humiliating. Loki pulled himself up from the floor, trying to recollect the little dignity he had left.

"If it's all the same to you...I'd like that drink now."

None of the Avengers were amused by his weak attempt at humor. Well, except for Tony Stark. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki caught the billionaire smirking. But he didn't get him the drink. Cheeky bastard.

Loki was promptly arrested. His crimes against Midgard were many and serious. Thor had his hands full serving as a figure of diplomacy between his father and Director Fury. In the mean time, Loki was held in S.H.I.E.L.D's custody once more. He will answer for his crimes in the face of Asgardian justice, rather than at a Midgardian trial. He didn't like that outcome. The death penalty, apparently a fierce ethical debate among Midgardians, seemed like a godsend compared to any punishment Odin could place on him.

Without his scepter, Loki no longer posed a formidable threat. But S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't taking any chances. He still had his sharp tongue and words. Natasha knew better than anyone how dangerous he could be with them. Still, Fury trusted her with the task of personally handling Loki. She was, after all, the only Avenger to defeat him at his own game.

Her task was simple: to rendezvous with Thor when he returned to Midgard and retrieve his adopted brother. The first step was to transfer Loki to another facility, with cuffs firmly binding his hands and Natasha closely flanking him. He didn't exactly make it a walk in the park for the Russian agent.

"You mortals think you've won," he said bitterly. "Even with my 'brother' and your group of freaks, your realm has suffered greatly. Hardly a victory, if you ask me. Not even a Pyrrhic one."

Natasha was more than familiar with the term. Named after the Roman emperor who had sacrificed many soldiers to preserve an empire, a Pyrrhic victory was one that came at a great cost. Natasha considered her unusually long and dark life one Pyrrhic victory after another.

"You're not in a position to be calling names," she retorted wryly.

He visibly stiffened. "You...you can't possibly know-"

"Thor told us everything. Now shut up and keep walking."

She was advised not to engage in conversation with the trickster. But she couldn't help herself. He started it in the first place. Besides, she got a sort of dark satisfaction out of throwing him off.

But Loki didn't shut up. Of course he wouldn't. "Mortals are so dense," he muttered.

She rolled her eyes. There he went with the mortals again. Mortal this, mortal that.

"I come here to offer stability and control...for a world bound to collapse from its freedom. Too many petty factions, divided by cultures, borders, even ideas. All that needed to be under a single ruler. A king." He knitted his eyebrows. His voice lowered to a whisper. "But you come together in rebellion...and somehow, you've won."

Natasha was bemused. 'Didn't he just say earlier that we lost?'

He was contradicting himself. That showed his insecurity. Natasha took it as a good sign...sort of. Any more vehemence in his comments, and that insecurity could easily turn into mental instability.

"I don't understand," Loki growled. "You are all so unpredictable. It's frustrating."

"Yep. I bet it must hurt."

She patted him firmly on the shoulder, right where the Hulk had thrown him into the Stark Tower's floor. Loki flinched.

"Hands off of me, quim!" he hissed.

"I take it that it's not a very nice name for me."

He narrowed his dark green eyes at her, his gaze as sharp and venomous as a snake's. "I find it quite suitable."

"_Vy zanozoy v zadnitse_," Natasha angrily muttered in Russian.

"What was that?"

"You're a pain in my ass."

"Glad to be of service."

Natasha bit back a retort of equal tartness. She was not going to be childish and stoop down to his level. She had to be professional.

Within half a minute, they arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D's research facility. Natasha called for a scientist to come over.

"Special delivery for Loki, free shipping and handling?"

"You got it, ma'am."

Loki looked angrily skeptical. "What's going on-"

"This ought to shut you up."

Natasha held him still while a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent snapped a muzzle over the bottom half of Loki's face. The angular metal felt tight around his jaws, but not tight enough to hurt him. With his lips firmly clamped shut, Loki couldn't utter a single intelligible word. The most he could manage were angry, muffled protests and a look that could kill. Natasha didn't even bat an eye.

She led him out as quickly as they had entered. She glanced at her watch. "All right, almost time. I'm turning you over to Thor now. I'm a busy woman; you're not the only thing on my to-do list."

A pause. "That came out wrong. But you probably don't get it anyway."

Loki didn't. All he knew that his interaction with her was merely business.

Natasha pushed him into a tiny elevator. They were custom-made for agents who had to be on the go quickly and discreetly. Not exactly one accomodated for spacey hotel purposes. She squeezed in next to him, so that their shoulders firmly touched. The Russian spy glanced up, and to her amused surprise Loki looked quite uncomfortable. Though the air wasn't particularly hot, a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. He looked paler than usual, his eyes bright and wide with agitation.

If Loki had been so worked up over her putting one hand on him, she could only imagine how he felt when the entire length of her body aligned with his in a cramped space.

He tried to lean away from her, only to be squished against the elevator wall. He absolutely despised being in small spaces of any kind. When he was a child, he insisted on having his own bed, that he was a big boy and he didn't need to share with Thor. He preferred riding a horse over a palanquin. He did whatever he could to avoid the worst possible situation. But fate and karma were cruel. He got what he deserved. Loki felt utterly miserable. But he could _not_ let her see his fear. He had been through enough embarrassment already.

Fortunately, Natasha remained silent. If she did know (which was likely), she held her tongue. Loki felt minutely grateful for that, if only for an instant. Only the quiet, whizzing hum of the elevator coincided with the quick intakes of breath through his nostrils.

Even under all that leather and armor, Natasha could feel how cool he was. She could smell him too. She couldn't put a finger on an accurate description. It was unlike anything she ever smelled. And she had been around _a lot_ of men in her career, in and out of bed. It wasn't any brand of cologne she recognized. She wasn't sure if she even smelled cologne. Loki seemed to have some sort of otherworldly aura. The scent of leather, residue of some plant or tree from the world he grew up in and once called home. If he was a prince, then certainly he would have some strong, noble scent to complement his regalia. Perhaps in the past, but not now.

What she sensed was the air of a former, wounded prince. He looked unkempt, but not disastrous. He knew he was a prince, but didn't care enough to live up to the image that he never truly was in the first place. Like Lucifer, the highest angel who had fallen out of Heaven and lost his light, Loki had fallen from grace and lost his pride. But not all of it.

In place of some of that lost pride was fear. Fear of being trapped in such a tight space. Being an experienced fighter, Natasha knew what fear looked like. She also knew how it felt. Normally it brought the worst out of people, some so much that they reek of it like heavy sweat.

But Loki? Frankly, it made him more human. Perhaps, like her, there was a glimmer of redemption for him after all.

Natasha found that oddly reassuring. She found it funny too. 'I bet Clint would get a kick out of this.'

Once they stepped out of the elevator, Loki audibly exhaled through his nose in relief.

"Feeling better?" Natasha asked.

He shot her a glare but said nothing. She guessed that he did that out of embarrassment more than anger. Sure enough, her sharp eyes caught the blood rushing to the tip of his ears. It was subtle, but it was there.

When Natasha met up with Thor, she handed Loki over to him without a word. Thor seemed concerned about the muzzle over his adopted brother's face, then looked as if it was for the best. Loki glanced over his shoulder, and Natasha returned it for a second before heading back. She had other housekeeping chores to do, like negotiating with the media to keep the confidentiality of her and Agent Barton, by eliminating all evidence of their public presence.

Once Fury gave the okay, the Avengers assembled once more at Central Park a day later. They didn't have to worry about the media or public attention. S.H.I.E.L.D agents and vehicles surrounded the area and kept constant surveillance. Loki's return to Asgard would be a quick and quiet one.

Loki kept his head down, but his eyes darted up as he watched Natasha turn to Clint.

She leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Loki is claustrophobic."

Clint cracked a smile.

Thor held out the Tesseract, offering the other end to Loki. The trickster reluctantly put his hand on it. Thor turned the handle, triggering their instant transport to Asgard. Their bodies dissipated into a stream of bright blue. The Avengers looked to the sky as the energy surged upward. They looked as if they could care less how Loki would be doing from then on. But not Natasha. She looked up with a hint of hope in her eyes.

'If he can feel fear, he can feel remorse. If someone like me could change, why not him?'

* * *

_Just a quick little oneshot, very mild Blackfrost. Thank you to jackpittgregor for suggesting the prompt! :) So I guess that's my interpretation of what Natasha was whispering to Clint at the end of the movie._


End file.
